Arrr! See CONTENTS for links to the 125 chapters of The Monstaville Memoirs plus introductions, conclusions, postscripts and appendices. This treasure trove also includes a collection of articles offering further insights into the themes explored in the trilogy. Namely, managing suffering and conflict (dealing with hostile people if you are nervous, sensitive or shy) and learning not to react

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Tuesday, 29 April 2014

Monstaville Book II. Chapter 14

“Some days it is a heroic act just to refuse the paralysis of fear and
straighten up and step into another day.”

- Edward Albert.

Black to the Future I

Fear has its roots in physicality, in the
insecurities that result from physical identification, from the separate ego.

Everyone I have known who has visited in the
northern Indian hilltop town of Dharamsala in India, where the Tibetan
Government resides in exile, has commented enthusiastically on the smiling
faces, the kind and gentle dispositions they encountered there, the spiritual
peace and prosperity unknown to our part of the world. Simply trying to cross
the zebra crossing at the end of my street is a feat in itself! I don’t know
what it’s like where you live, but round ‘my’ way, walking from one end of town
to the other, one usually comes across some ‘nutter’ whose ignorance or
selfishness, general lack of spatial awareness or outwardly aggressive attitude,
interferes with one’s path. The funny thing is, I never expect it. A man from
deepest India pushing ahead in the queue, a woman from darkest Africa, cussing
someone rudely for being in her way before they have even noticed her let alone
had a chance to step aside politely. The increasing number of African women
talking on mobiles on public transport in these parts (and the occasional whiff
of gruesome, strong perfume mixed with the odour of hot fast food containing
meat making me feel sick).

Some (white) English guy completely ignores the
fact that I am walking along the pavement, for instance. He doesn’t want to
know or care that I have any right to continue walking uninterrupted. All he
cares about is crossing the road to see his mate. The fact that I happen to be
passing between them at the exact moment of his arrival is irrelevant. He
regards my sustained pace as a nuisance and pushes me out of the way: I’m
in the way! Hilarious! He’s barely conscious at all and I am not sufficiently
conscious to avoid anger welling up inside myself. It soon passes as I become
aware of it and understand the absurdity of such a reaction. Even so, my
annoyance and righteous indignation get the better of me for a moment or two
and I want to react, to teach, to civilise. But, I look around me and it
doesn’t look much like ‘civilisation’! Naturally, such incidents occur all over
the place, not just in my neck of the woods, and appear to be more prevalent
than ever before. I was walking along Tottenham Court Road with a friend one
evening recently and a boy in his mid-teens charged towards us on his
skateboard with a grin on his face. I was aware that he had stopped and then
deliberately headed in our direction but perhaps he wanted it to look like it
was an ‘accident.’ I did not notice that he was trying to ‘impress’ his
friends, of which he was the smallest of the group. I did not stop suddenly as
he expected me to in order to get out of the way for him. I considered being
kind but allowed justice to prevail by sticking my elbow out to protect myself
when he finally collided with me. He then complained that I had pushed him, at
which I simply laughed and, as he looked to his mates (there were several boys
standing around on the pavement) for support, one of them smiled knowingly and
apologised for him.

I often encounter Black and Asian youths (male)
cycling on the pavement and deriving a sense of power from it (perhaps some
white boys would be doing the same if there were more of them living in the
area). Riding at people, forcing them to step aside, hooting or whistling
loudly behind each pedestrian they pass from behind even though there is ample
space to manoeuvre past. The roads around here are dangerous for cyclists to be
sure, but the cyclist now has right of way on the pavement because he does not
respect people. If there is no room for a cyclist and a pedestrian to squeeze
between people, it is the pedestrian who stops and allows the cyclist to
continue unimpeded (many of the drivers around here are equally ignorant and
selfish, too impatient to stop at the zebra crossing and honking repeatedly in
traffic as if the person in front is responsible). These little incidents
appear to be insignificant but I guess they can all add up and have an effect
on one’s general emotional outlook. As with the pressures from my neighbours,
the challenge is to be positive and joyful all the time so there are no cracks
of lower energy through which tension can enter (as advised by Zapharia).
Easier said than done, of course, but we are all capable of generating some
degree of positive energy.

The Maharajah of Pookojee (Top Cat)

I asked for Sai Baba’s protection each night prior
to sleeping for a few weeks after reading that Joshua David Stone included this
in his spiritual practice. After about two weeks, during meditation one day, I
had a vision of a vertically-challenged Maharajah whose cheeks were glowing
with radiant happiness and who was smiling and laughing and spreading joy and
love with people, just being his joyful Self. His being and purpose seemed to
be one: being and giving this radiant, overflowing happiness, this fountain of
love and laughter. I realised later that this was a gift from Sai Baba in reply
to my request. He was sending me a message that the greatest protection is to
shine one’s Light and to express oneself positively and be and radiate pure joy
and happiness. Really, to be like a child again: simple, innocent, fun-loving
and generous. The light-hearted little Maharajah, majestic and magnanimous in
his merriment! The vision raised my frequency dramatically and I was smiling
and laughing a lot for a few days afterwards. It was so vivid and I really
hoped I could preserve it somehow. Alas, inevitably, the memory faded after a
week and I have not been able to summon it forth with any clarity since. I certainly
got the message however!

The first
black person I knew was in high school back in the 70s. He was in my ‘group’
and it was an honour to know him. He was very tall and about one of the most
serenely quiet and gentle people I have ever known, very kind-hearted and calm,
shy but not fearful with it. I think he was even the only black student in the
whole school at the time, but certainly one of only a few. One day, however, an
idiot from my village hit him in the head, while he was waiting in the corridor
to go into a class, in order to demonstrate his ‘worthiness’ to enter the local
gang (that is, he was the worst kind of coward there is!). I had problems of my
own of course: bullying and confrontations in which I was equally defenceless.
There were no Asian pupils as far as I remember. The whole demographic of the
area has now changed considerably since it is within commutable distance of
Londistan! So, anyway, I for one, never had any cause to be wary of, or resent,
people of darker skin colour. It was never in me to think that way either. I
remember being shocked by the frequent racist jokes that were told by older
colleagues in my first job (in a glass factory).

“We always
had the two audiences. We were the only ones in London that could play to both
crowds [heavy metal and punk]. You know, they’d both show up and, like, coexist
in the place. You know what I mean? For the sake of the music, which is exactly
the pint, you know. Because it doesn’t matter what you look like. It doesn’t
matter what your haircut is, you know, you can always enjoy the music, right?
And I like to see black people at our shows. We’ve got a few more now, on this
tour, and that’s fucking great, you know. Everybody should mix up because we’re
all mixed up anyway. So you might as well. It’s too late to be fucking racist,
you know. I mean, I don’t understand racism, you know. I never understood it. I
can’t understand the fact that you could hate somebody from half a mile away
and never even speak to him – and hate him. You know, that’s fucking so dumb!

I
mean, you know, there’s black assholes and white assholes, and Japanese
assholes and whatever assholes – there’s always plenty of assholes. But, until
you speak to people, you’re not going to know which they are, you know, good
guy or an asshole. And you give them that chance, you know? that’s the only
thing I’m prejudiced against is assholes, you know.”

-
Lemmy (in an interview with Artisan News, 2011, www.artisannews.com. Whoever said it better than the Motörhead ‘mastermind’?).

A funny thing happened about five or six years ago.
I was rushing to the station to go to work one day and my path was blocked by a
giant (tall and well-built) African fellow. True, I was not thinking, but I had
never seen anyone in my life walk so slowly before. What followed was
like a clip from a Charlie Chaplin film. Speeded up, it would have been even
funnier. ‘Come on man!’ I said, stupidly, in exasperation, assuming that he was
about to cross the road, too. It turned out that he was not heading for the
pedestrian crossing (there was no way of knowing for ages because he was moving
like a prehistoric snail). As I ran across the road to beat the traffic lights,
he eventually reacted and I heard him shouting at me. No idea what he was
saying but I could still hear him a minute or two later as I approached the
station! Well, that incident was nothing. I was to blame but it was the sheer
disbelief that made me open my mouth. Honestly, and this is just the reality of
living in an area that has become virtually unrecognisable in a short space of
time, one observes and encounters things here that make it feel that one has
been transported to a far-off land without having had a choice in the matter.
And, no, neither Sun nor palm trees nor any of the cultural wonders of the
world, only instances of grim contrast to one’s expectations for civilised
life. This may sound like a silly, trivial example, but I remember this
experience because it was surreal. I was sitting down at the bus stop eating an
apple, probably for the first time in a decade or something! I then watched
incredulously as an African man walked past on the other side of the road also
eating an apple but spitting chunks of it out and leaving an apple trail along
the pavement. There is perhaps a good reason for this behaviour, some
traditional means of making sure the wandering livestock are fed maybe, but…you
couldn’t make it up!

I’ve been pushed and sworn at by young black men a
few times when I was simply walking down the street. One black guy and one
white guy have taken ‘playfully intimidating’ swings at me as I have passed
them, each time to ‘impress’ the person they were walking with. Luckily, I have
not had any encounters with dangerous Somalian men. My former Asian colleagues
were always very wary of them and I once overheard a Punk explain that two
Somalians came up behind him in the street one day and stabbed him in the back
purely on the basis of his appearance. This is one of the reasons I generally
like Asians living in this area. They don’t generally behave in such a
physically aggressive manner for kicks or because of a chip on their shoulder.
Again, I ought to point out that I have and have had close friends from Africa, particularly Uganda, and descendants thereof,
more than Asians, in fact. The loud, aggressive person is my nemesis! The young
soul...say no more.

Having said that, I met a guy from Dagenham whose ex-girlfriend’s father
has lived in a nearby block of flats for decades. His quality of life was
martyred to the cause of hot Indian curry! His flat reeked of the stench all
day and also at night. The pong was so intense that he could not get to sleep
and was getting headaches. Not knowing what to do or where to turn, he started
following the people who lived there. He was obsessed, said the guy. The man,
who was Greek, discovered that the people living in the curry zone made several
trips each day. They were cooking for a community elsewhere and transporting
the food they had cooked over to those people. In the end, he slept on a park
bench for a few months and could not live in his flat. The guy who related this
story to me put him up in the flat that he and his girlfriend shared after
seeing him in the park as he drove by. He told me that his girlfriend’s father
made a formal complaint to the council, sending them a full report, but they
did absolutely nothing about it. He still lives there, apparently and may still
be suffering in silence. OK, so it turns out that this old man got his just
desserts really. Apparently, he did some nasty and brutal things to his wife
and family in the past.

Speaking of Somalians, I also met a lady from Barking who
briefly described her neighbour situation. She sounded as distressed about it
as I am with my own ordeals. She was a member of a housing association and
moved there from another area some years ago because she needed a larger property
for herself and her daughter. She had some trouble with a Pakistani family for
five years. But, she said she could reach the mother and communicate enough to
curb her children’s enthusiasm for chucking things over the fence into her
garden somewhat. However, for the past two years, she has been enduring an
incredible amount of noise from the Somalian family who moved in afterwards.
She said they slam the doors all the time, kick the walls, shout and talk
loudly…and she can hear the light switches being turned on and off. Anyway, she
said it’s a nightmare and that they make the previous occupants look like
saints! On the other side, things were OK until another Somalian family moved
in. They had only been living there for four or five months when I met this
lady but she said they were very loud and disturbing her. So, between them,
they were driving her mad.

Someone
informed me that the reason why places like Barking and Dagenham changed within
the space of a few years is that selected council areas around Stratford
adopted a new scheme called ELLC Home Choice (the East London Lettings Company
– which sounds a bit like the Illuminati’s old East India Company! - is part of
Choice Homes U.K.) in preparation for the 2012 Olympics. People living in
Hackney no longer have to move to council houses in the same borough. They can
now move to Redbridge, Newham, Barking, Dagenham, Havering or Waltham Forest.
Their first choice can be somewhere much nicer and, consequently, it often is! This
might be one reason but others suggest that many of the Africans living in
these parts are refugees from war-torn countries like Sudan and Somalia. And
then there is the other reason, which I have considered all along, which is
that, as property prices have risen in London, people have been pushed further
out to more affordable areas. So there has been a demographic ripple effect
which has pushed East London further out. [In retrospect, I believe that the
main reason is that property prices shot up overnight. It made sense for people
to sell up and move away since prices more than doubled and demand for
properties in the area from black and Asian people living in East London
increased, primarily Asian Muslims since there are two mosques nearby].

“It is a
curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you
realise just how much you love them.” - Agatha Christie.

When I visit friends in more cosmopolitan, more
multicultural parts of London
(that is, not ghettos), I realise that multiculturalism can work just fine.
Where there is more of a mix of people from many parts of the world, they
generally tend to appear to be more individual. I’m just stating facts here
about the environment in which I now live. I am aware that some people, who
have yet to evolve to a rounded human state, will take my personal experiences
and observations the wrong way. I live by the truth, however, and reject the
whole PC culture that has developed in modern society. The future belongs to
individuality and only when we become all that we can be as individuals will
there be true peace and unity in our world. How do we get there? By being
individuals, of course; by being the highest that we can be. People are always
telling me, ‘You can’t say that.’ They are living a lie. Fear finds half-truths
more convenient. Anyway, for several years I have been hearing only resentment
and mistrust from non-whites towards other racial, non-British backgrounds.
Bengalis generally mistrusting blacks and Pakistanis for their aggressive
attitudes, blacks criticising Asians generally and now also resenting Eastern
Europeans for taking away work that they have come to rely on and Pakistanis
looking down on Bengalis and just about everyone else. People from Pakistan
tend to be quite hard and insensitive in my experience. They do not require
space and do not want quality of life. They simply believe in struggling,
putting their heads down and making as much money as they can for their
families.

“Pakistanis may dislike and mistrust the Americans
at the moment, but that's as nought compared with what they think about the
Indians. They really, really properly hate Indians. Indeed, hating Indians is
almost a defining patriotic characteristic of being Pakistani.” – A.A. Gill (The Times, included on
www.homepage.eircom.net/%257Eodyssey/Quotes/Modern_World/Racist_Humour.html).

These all generalisations, of course, but they stem
from direct experience and one cannot pull the rug over that. Those people have
valid arguments which the PC culture does not wish to hear. They have
encountered a sufficient number of people from those races to have a problem
with them; that is, regardless of how many good guys there are, the probability
factor is high enough for them to be wary. I might point out that they, like
me, are also more wary of destructive, white English-types - and have
encountered more of these - than most cultures in the world. We are, in other
words, very low on the list of trustworthy collectives. We’re not talking about
honest, innocent people here, we’re talking about harmful types and the
frequency at which they hurt people. ‘What we have here is a failure to
communicate.’ [1]

Incidentally, I was walking through a nice,
peaceful park one afternoon and encountered a young, white English guy who was
walking his dog and shouting into his mobile phone, ‘People don’t like me
because I’m...’ Those are the only words I really caught. I thought it was very
funny because it seemed quite obvious why people might not like him. He was so
loud and aggressive. That’s enough for me not to like someone anyway.

"Why hate someone for the colour of their skin when there are much
better reasons to hate them?" - Denis Leary. (It’s a joke).

So what?
The devious, alcoholic psycho with knife who lived upstairs just happened to
have an Irish surname? The hard-hearted fascists next door just happen to be
from Pakistan? The druggies down the road who live on the Council estate just
happen to be indigenous English low lives? The paranoid looks, brutal shoves
and verbal abuse I encounter in the street just happen to be from black men 99%
of the time (sure, occasionally, even here, I get English men shouting as they
walk by and I’m sure it’s worse that than this in many poor areas of the
country that are mainly inhabited by white people)? The really pleasant couples
in the area just happen to be Indian? Truth is truth. Let’s call a spade a
spade and deal with it. [Retrospective note: I passed a lanky local – white guy
- and his girlfriend once on the way home and he stepped to the side and stuck
his elbow out whilst keeping the same posture. He succeeded in elbowing me in
the arm. It can be somewhat difficult to believe that such people exist or that
people can behave in such a manner at the time. I only really acknowledged what
had happened afterwards. Actually, I blamed myself for not having my wits about
me because I was learning xingyi! Had I been more alert I would have only
needed to turn a little to avoid him. Five or so years later, I saw this guy
again and he had just rudely pushed a schoolboy who was waiting for a bus in
town and accused him of being in the way which he was not. The boy was very
upset and started to protest. I told him supportively, ‘Just ignore him and let
it go.’].

“A second part of the paralysis probably came from
the fact that the criminals were black. If it had been a group of trash whites
moving into the neighbourhood, robbing and raping and killing, the response
would have been much fiercer, but when whites denounced blacks for robbing and
raping and killing they left themselves open to the charge of racism. In the
atmosphere of public opinion of that time no intellectual dared to open himself
to the charge of being a racist. Just the thought of it shut him up tight.
Paralysis. That charge is part of the paralysis of this city here...A subject-object
metaphysics lumps biological man and cultural man together as aspects of a
single molecular unit. It goes on to reason that because it is immoral to speak
against a people because of their genetic characteristics it is therefore
immoral to speak against people because of their cultural characteristics. The
anthropological doctrine of cultural relativism reinforces this. It says you
cannot judge one culture in terms of the values of another. Science says there
is no morality outside of cultural morality, therefore any moral censorship of
minority patterns of crime in this city is itself immoral. That is the
paralysis.” - Robert Pirsig (Lila. An Inquiry Into Morals, Black Swan, London,
U.K., 1991, p.362-363).

The Elite
do not want us to know how powerful we are. In Barbara Marciniak’s
‘classic’Bringers of the Dawn (1992), our Pleiadian friends inform us
that if anything, what members of the human species have in common is the fact
that we have been raped of our emotions and robbed of our life force. Our
emotions have been manipulated as though played like musical instruments. Yet,
it is through them that we have power. And it is this power we are now
reclaiming. The Pleiadians also explain that the major cities in the
United States have been established for the purpose of acting as holes through
which energy enters the continent. Violence on the streets of these cities is
created deliberately since it is an important means of control for the Elite,
they say. Prolonged unrest is reported in the news and can consequently used as
a vehicle for steering the entire country in a certain direction where there is
of course yet more fear and restriction. The Elite also then work on an etheric
level to generate more fear for those in charge because they feed on it. Just a
single assault can cause enough fear to feed many and that caused by war can be
phenomenal. (p.94).

Whilst writing the above, I took a stroll in the
local park and passed a tall, muscular black man as he entered the park. After
passing in front of me, a little way ahead of me, he suddenly turned round and
shouted, ‘What’s up nigger?’ Then, when he realised I wasn’t looking at him, he
said in a more polite tone, ‘Have you got the time please?’ I said ‘No’ because
it was apparent that was his way of apologising, not that I had any ‘time’ for
him by then anyway! I had noticed that he was strutting in unusual skintight
sports gear and judged that he seemed overly identified with his physical body,
but that was the sum of my attention. Who cares, as long as the person isn’t
violent, hey?! It turned out that he was expecting me to stare at him or
something. He’d probably been running or working out shortly before we crossed
paths and was full of himself, feeling powerful but without much respect for
himself or others. Physical confidence on its own only enables one to overcome
personal insecurities and feel ‘in charge’ temporarily. It’s outer, not inner,
work and, therefore, does not constitute psychological - or spiritual - growth.
[Retrospective note: I saw this guy in town again on 10 May. He was walking
aggressively like an animal and deliberately stopping all of a sudden and
looking across the street whenever he passed someone (only white people it
appeared) walking on the other side. Retrospective note, January 2010: He
looked kind of like that muscular, black ‘real-life superhero,’ Phoenix Jones,
in Seattle, who, each night, strolls into a comic shop, enters a hidden back
room and emerges transformed. A guy who’s car was about to be robbed told CBS
Eyewitness News, “From the right, this guy comes dashing in just wearing this
skintight, rubber black and golden suit and starts chasing him away.” Jones is
one of eight members of a crimefighting movement in the city. They “walk the
streets, eyes out for crime, prepared to fight it,” says the news reporter. On
his ‘super suit,’ he has a tasernight
stick, bulletproof vest, stab plates and mace/tear gas. He says that when
criminals see the suit they run away!].

“The less secure a man is the more likely he is to
have extreme prejudices.” – Clint Eastwood.

Interestingly, these days, some black people refer
to themselves and each other as niggers. The same applies to Pakistanis using
the word ‘Paki.’ According to Barefoot Doctor many Native Americans even call
themselves ‘Indians.’ Apparently, you can’t say ‘coloured’ anymore. Black is
the politically-correct term. I was raised to favour the word ‘coloured’ in
order not to be specific about a person’s skin colour to be on the safe side.
Not that I ever heeded the advice. Or I may have done once or twice. Jackie
Chan in Rush Hour (directed by Brett
Ratner, 1998): his character Lee is sitting at the bar and the barman returns.
‘What’s up nigga?’ he asks, remembering that his partner, a black American
detective named Carter (Chris Tucker) has used this term to connect with black
people as well as referring to himself as ‘nigga.’ Consequently, he ends up in
a fight with a whole billiard hall of black guys.

“Are there any niggers here tonight? I know that
one nigger who works here, I see him back there. Oh, there’s two niggers,
customers, and, ah, aha! Between
those two niggers sits one kike – man, thank God for the kike! Uh, two kikes.
That’s two kikes and three niggers, and one spic. One sppic – two, three spics.
One mick. One mick, one spic, one hick, thick, funky, spunky, bogey. And
there’s another kike. Three kikes. Three kikes, one guinea, one greaseball.
Three greaseballs, two guineas. Two guineas, one hunky funku lace-curtain Irish
mick. Than mick spic hunky funky bogey. Two guineas plus three greaseballs and
four boogies makes usually three spics. Minus two Yid spic Polack funky spunky
Polacks.

Auctioneer: Five more niggers! Five
more niggers!

Gambler: I pass with six niggers and
eight micks and four spics.

The point? That the word’s suppression gives it the
power, the violence, the iciousness. If President Kennedy got on television and
said, ‘Tonight I’d like to introduce the niggers in my cabinet,’ and he yelled
‘niggerniggerniggerniggerniggerniggernigger’ at every nigger he saw, ‘boogey
boogeyboogeyboogeyboogeyboogeyboogey’ till nigger didn’t mean anything anymore,
till nigger lost its meaning – you’d never make any four-year old nigger cry
when he came home from school. Screw ‘Negro!’ Oh, it’s so good to say,
‘Nigger!’ Boy!

I’ve had several similar experiences with black
guys looking at me aggressively as if to say, ‘You looking at me motherfucker?’
Yeah, paranoia and a large chip on the shoulder to go please. And make it
snappy! Sure, so some older people might not be used to seeing black-skinned
people in these parts and therefore their attention might be caught
temporarily. But, basically, this insecurity lies, I’m sure, in a lack of
self-respect, or low self-esteem, so the onus is on them to sort out their
status and confidence as individuals in their own right. How I might be lumped
in with such older folk, however, is hard to imagine. On the contrary, it
always feels as though there is an inherent fear that is without grounds in
reality, a feeling of being threatened by other men, perhaps ones who ‘look
like me,’ in particular. And how do I look? I look like an English man who
knows my individuality, my uniqueness, which is something they clearly lack.
Or, perhaps I look Eastern European to some people! I was on a tube train one
evening, on my way home, and two Polish girls climbed aboard, one of whom
thereafter practised her amazing Borat impressions by poking fun at people and
winding them up with his comical Kazakh
accent. They were both having such a laugh and I appeared
to be the only passenger who was enjoying the show while everyone else seemed
either afraid or disapproving. Consequently, when the seat next to me was
vacated they came over to sit with me and continued saying outrageous things to
people (‘He likes me,’ she said, mimicking Borat).

“Those who
are so polarised are the ones who are easily brainwashed and manipulated and
controlled by this system...” ♥
fairybells (Jade Fairybells Beckham).

It is a fear of the unknown, I guess. I’m unusual
and look especially out of place in what might be described as a ‘plebeian part
of town.’ But, I guess, I also look gentle and sensitive enough for men, like
Pigsy too, who feel physically powerful and regard me as easy prey, to assert a
feeling of supremacy rather than look at themselves. They want to offload their
personal fears onto others, especially those whose ‘power’ - or freedom and
independence - they do not understand and feel a need to prove to themselves,
to demonstrate, that what they sense unconsciously is not real. Many men invest
so much into their identities that they will protect them at any cost instead
of developing them further, peeling back the layers of external conditioning
and sources of confidence and power. Usually, these identities are not their
own but founded on physical, religious, political or cultural models on which
they become dependent. In other words, they can no longer afford to look at the
truth. True individuality, true identity, must come from within oneself. For
such a metamorphosis to occur, one must obviously let go of the caterpillar
form and brave the inner world of the soul. In order to become all that one can
be it is vital to embrace the feminine realm of feeling and consciousness for
it is there that we find our true colours and develop the wings of the mind.

As the American comedian Chris Rock famously
confessed in the mid-90s, “Everything white people don't like about black
people, black people don't like about black people. It's like our own personal
civil war. On one side, there's black people. On the other, you've got niggers.
The niggers have got to go. I love black people but I hate niggers. I am tired
of niggers. Tired, tired, tired...Niggers always want credit for some shit
they're supposed to do. They'll brag about stuff a normal man just does. They'll
say something like, ‘Yeah, well I take care of my kids.’ You're supposed to, you dumb motherfucker. ‘I
ain't never been to jail.’ Whaddya want? A cookie?
You're not supposed to go to jail,
you low-expectation-having motherfucker!” It should be noted that Rock now refrains
from repeating this kind of joke having learned that “some people that were
racist thought they had license to say ‘nigger.’ So, I'm done with that
routine." [See Appendix IX for an example of Chris Rock’s routine a decade
later].

Chris Rock

Nigger

Elgar
Enders (Beau Bridges): Do you know what NAACP means?

Mrs Enders
(Lee Grant): No Elgar, what does it mean?

Elgar: It
means ‘Niggers ain’t always coloured people.’

Mr Enders
(Walter Brooke): What did he mean by that?

Mrs Enders:
He called us Niggers.

Mr Enders:
Us?

-
The Landlord (directed by Hal Ashby, 1970. Based on a novel by Kristin Hunter).

“I told The
Independent I’d never actually revealed that story before – I told The
Independent that I was so ashamed of that having happened that, when I went
home to my little cottage on the island, where I stay in America, where no one
can see,went down on my knees and I
pleaded to God for forgiveness. It’s just totally unforgivable. I’ve never used
that word before. I’ve never used it since. I find it difficult to say even
now…It is inside your brain, buried somewhere in an ugly corner of your brain
and in a moment of great pain, it comes out and you wish you hadn’t said it and
you know that he’s seen you and he’s heard you. I’ve never used that word
before. I’ve never used it since. I find it difficult to say even now…It is
inside your brain, buried somewhere in an ugly corner of your brain and, in a
moment of great pain, it comes out and you wish you hadn’t said it and you know
that he’s seen you and he’s heard you say it and you go and apologise. And
that’s all you can do.” – David Irving (BBC interview, 2000).

My response
to this statement: Yeah, but who is most likely to identify with a racial
position? The majority of a minority group and a minority of the majority!
These are the people who take themselves too seriously and that makes them fearful
and potentially dangerous in my view. I’m not dangerous so as far as I’m
concerned I can say what the fuck I like, in theory at least, because these
attitudes are way more threatening than words. Of course I don’t wanna hurt
nobody but I’m a clown and a rebel so there’s a price for telling me what I can
and can’t say or do since I do not recognise anyone’s approval, expectations or
judgements. If you have a problem with me saying a word that means you got a
problem with me or don’t trust where I’m coming from. And if you got a problem
with me than Ima not be havin much to do with you. So that’s that. You want to
add another brick to the wall. You’re welcome. Your choice. I respect your
freedom to deny your freedom. It doesn’t really affect me. I am free.

One thing I never knew, anyway, is that ‘nigger’ is
what the black slaves were called so it is a derogatory term that denotes the
most disgusting abuse. Offence, of course, really boils down to intent. It just
depends whether, collectively, we - and the black community in particular -
continue to associate it thus. Of course there would still be some haters on
both sides trying to stir up trouble to keep them company so it is a matter of
whether people’s hearts and minds are strong enough to bear it. I mean, on the
one hand, it is not healthy to have taboos. Political correctness, like
religious morality before it, is a kind of sickness, a dis-ease. It is designed
to cover up division and ignorance rather than increase awareness to the point
where people become immune to lies and forgive in their hearts the ills that
befell their ancestors as well as their own ordeals since it is resistance that
makes these experience possible in the first place. And, on the other hand, more
and more people will gradually become heart-centred and aware and they will not
even consider using words with such negative connotations anyway.

Def poet Julian Curry’s poem ‘Niggers, Niggas and
Niggaz’ criticises the prevalence of the ugly word among blacks in America on
the basis that it was the term use by slave masters. The poem ends with the
suggestion that this poem be called ‘The People Formerly Known As Niggers.’ A
fair point, although it might well be possible that, when black people own this
word (just as some young Pakistanis now call themselves ‘Pakis’), the context
has been changed and the word has been impregnated with a more positive
feelings, thus representing a gradual shift, culturally, from a powerless
condition to one of power, from low self-esteem to greater confidence. It is
then cleaning and transforming the word and its vibration, releasing the
negativity it once carried, neutralising its original intention and effect.

Oddly, about 20 minutes after this incident my
attention was caught by someone jumping up and down on a bus and banging on the
window. It was an old friend from Pakistan whom I used to bump into
regularly but hadn’t seen for over a year. He’s a really cool guy and it was
great to see him even without an opportunity to talk.

It’s a crazy world. That is why the soul is
privileged to have afforded an incarnation at this time and why we are expected
to express some gratitude for being alive - because we are growing faster than
would otherwise be possible.

One has to live somewhere and those of us who are
in a weak position financially often get stuck somewhere and have limited
choices as to where we live, whether temporarily or for the long term. It could
be worse. If I had to choose between a rundown White, Black or Asian area I’d
take my chances in the Asian one which is effectively a choice I have made,
except that the area in which I live has deteriorated much further. The Asian
population has expanded dramatically, the few white English people left in the
area are generally pretty rough and the black people who are here now are mixed
- many seem OK but there are always those who are out to cause trouble. Then
there are a number of Eastern Europeans who tend to keep themselves to
themselves but I usually feel trustworthy vibes from them. [Retrospective note:
I was coming home on the bus after going out with friends in Central London
late one night when an Eastern European man staggered in a daze onto the bus at
Whitechapel bearing such a bruised and puffy face that he could not open his
eyes very easily. He had obviously just finished work as he was wearing a
MacDonalds t-shirt and someone had clearly beaten the crap out of him. After
not too long, a young Eastern European guy chatted to him and it became evident
that, although he was very fit, he was a gentle, quiet man whom someone had
picked on for some reason, probably someone who had waited for him to finish
work. Judging by the state of him, I would say that he had been set upon by a
group of callous cowards. My heart went out to him because he looked like he
was in a state of shock more than anything else. Who knows how long he had been
over here before meeting with this shameful violence directly? This was also
the night before Halloween 2009 I believe!].

I chose this flat because it was ideal, affordable
and not located in a rough area, although it has deteriorated over the years. I
am aware that those guiding me from the spirit world (those who bring nothing
but painful lessons and growth for the soul, it seems to me!) have manipulated
me into this place. I could have experienced the same conflicts if I lived on a
council estate surrounded by rough English people. Indeed, that could be even
worse. But, there’s just no way I would ever fall for that one! There is no way
on Earth I would ever lived on a council estate in whatever area it was situated.
Indeed, there is one not far from where I live and it’s where the junkies and
criminals tend to live. A former gay friend lived on a council estate in
Hackney for several years and, in the last couple of years, he was mugged,
threatened and intimidated by black youths on several occasions. The situation
could have been just as bad on an all-white council estate, perhaps, or one of
these Turkish or Asian council estates that even the police are too scared to
ever go. They do exist. We live in a pretty mad country!

“Racism
isn’t born, folks. It’s taught. I have a 2-year-old son. Know what he hates?
Naps. End of list.” - Dennis Leary, 1992.

I met a 30-something black guy (Caribbean) from
Hackney on a Government New Deal ‘course.’ He told me he does not know why the
area has such a bad reputation. He said all the troublemakers are drug dealers
and the like but they attack each other. Some people argue that rundown areas
may look dodgy and rumours put people
off going to them but they say there might be no more trouble there than in
well-to-do areas – er, largely on the basis that there are a few Council
estates in Chelsea and that lots of rich people take drugs in Kensington
‘behind closed doors.’ Er, yeah, OK. He had lived all his life there, and said
he would not move to an area where people do not like black people. The example
he gave was Barking when the BNP had power there although, as far as I know,
the demographic simply continued changing so that, today, one sees largely
black and Asian people there. He argued that it is unfair for Hackney to be
classed as a violent area when Dagenham, for example, is worse for street crime
yet it is an area that is far enough from the centre of London to be largely
white. Actually, you know, I got the impression that this guy could only defend
black people, as a ‘race,’ and was not really interested in any suggestion that
some white people might have anything to complain about regarding his brothers
and sisters. I said that it must have been tough to have come over to Britain
to live during the 60s and that I would never have taken the risk myself. He responded
by smiling and explained that he did not know one black person who did not have
a story about racial tensions from that time.

There are people who do not like black people, he
told me at the end. He said he would prefer them to be honest and just come out
and say it than pretend. It appeared to me that he was speaking about me
indirectly, asking me to make a full confession so that he could feel better
and write me off as a racist, and/or as being arrogant and opinionated. However,
we had a good chat a couple of weeks later and, when I mentioned this, he
laughed and assured me that he was not referring to me personally. We got on
really well as it happens. During that initial ‘induction’ week, I had been
quite vocal in the debate about racial discrimination that the black people
were bent on continuing in that I had experiences, opinions and intelligent
insights of my own to contribute. I have to say, though, that the fervent
argument between a Nigerian and a British-born man with African parents over
whether being African means belonging to a race or culture (or whatever the
disagreement was about) was lost on me. There are people who do not like any
other race but their own and there are, of course, black people who do not like
any other race but their own as well! Some people do not like anyone who is
different in any major way (external differences appearing to be more
meaningful than they really are!). I read an article which suggested that black
Americans are wont to play the victim and only mention their side of the
argument where racial issues are concerned (that some people do not like blacks
in this instance).

“Being
African is not a matter of race. It’s a matter of a history, of a culture, of a
struggle, of a people. And, the important thing is to be able to remember that,
not to be disassociated from that, not to be torn from that – so carry that on
into the future. And to carry that on in changing the future.” – Assata Shakur
(‘Eyes of the Rainbow,’ documentary by Gloria Rolando, 1997).

We got on very well, in fact. Later, he told me
that he lives even further out than I do! I said I thought he loved Hackney and
lived there, and that it sounded like he would never leave the area he had been
championing. He explained that he does love Hackney but could not live there
anymore because of the people he grew up with. They were a bad influence, he
added, just doing whatever they wanted, not caring about others. He went on to
tell me about Clissold Estate after I mentioned that Stoke Newington seemed to
be a better part of Hackney. He gave me an ironic smile and said that, despite
appearances, it has the worst estate in the whole area. He mentioned a few
English rappers who do not have regular bodyguards. They go there for their
security teams. They pay boys from Clissold Estate because they are all very
hard! These rappers have to play the game and wear a lot of bling (‘all the
jewellery’). Consequently, they are liable to be robbed otherwise.

“Look at
Moss Side in Manchester, England; it’s a no-go zone captured by armed gangs
that strut a very important gait. In the same way as AIDS attacks the immune
system, the urban pox destroys the moral fibre of our people and creates an
atmosphere of hopelessness. People will tell you that the way to fix things is
to spend more money, but that’s heroin to the ego. It underwrites the weakness.
Education and a shift in consciousness is the only healing that will work.” -
Stuart Wilde (Whispering Winds of Change,
Hay House, London, U.K., 1993/2007, p.117).

Oh yeah, during that New Deal induction week, there
was a middle-aged Asian lady whom I thought was charming except for her
religious views! She had converted from being a Sikh to a Christian (which she
is thrilled about) and believed in all the usual nonsense, including a
perception of goths that would impress any fundamentalist Christian in the
American Bible Belt! She said that goths are all demonic Devil-worshippers, claiming to have observed their
negative characters firsthand down the shops! I mentioned that I’m probably
more of a goth than anything and a black guy wanted to know where all my facial
piercings were! I said that what most goths generally have in common is
sensitivity and emotional depth and many gravitate to Pagan wisdom. There are
some superficial goths, too, but this subculture is not just for show! This
example of blatant stereotyping followed a heated debate on racial
discrimination!

"Have
no fear of robbers or murderers. They are external dangers, petty dangers. We
should fear ourselves. Prejudices are the real robbers; vices the real murderers."
- Victor Hugo (Les Miserables).

We ended up in the same group and she pressed me
for my religious views but I would only respond by saying that it is impossible
to reason with someone who is devoted to a belief system. Later on, however,
someone I had gotten to know fairly well got into a debate with her and enjoyed
bombarding her with truths she simply couldn’t accept. Predictably, the
response to everything was making defensive (offensive) references to Jesus
saving everyone by dying on the cross. There was no love in her, really, and
she turned quite nasty towards me when, after asking if I am a Pagan and ‘believe
in Stonehenge’ (I said I didn’t know what she meant and asked her, in turn, if
she believed in the salad she was eating), I finally gave in when she mentioned
astrology and told her that I had practiced the art and also taught it in the
past. She was horrified yet, perhaps, pleased that she could now, finally,
write me off as a Devil-worshipper! She told me – rather threateningly – that
she would pray for me. Haha. Meanwhile, my friend persisted in challenging her
beliefs but it all went over her head. She was comfortable in her ignorance,
thank you.

Incidentally, shortly after this, another black guy
I was friendly with on the ‘course’ tried to persuade me that Jesus was, in
fact, black. The first
budda was black, he said. The House of David is Ethiopiaand King Selassie is the lineage of King
Solomon, King David’s son. In the Bible, he suggested, it says that King David’s
throne is in Ethiopia and is what King Selassie sits on. I replied
that I never give any credence to either the Bible or what humans believe. Only
what I read from the masters, angels and our space family in channelled
transmissions, I said, and never has any of them referred to Jeshua as being a
black man from Ethiopia. His father Joseph was not a 'carpenter' but a 'member
of the craft' which means that he was high up in the order of the spiritual
community known as Essenes in Jerusalem or wherever. “I see black people
wearing ankhs and claiming ancient Egyptian civilisation as their idea and it
ain't true my friend. It's much older than people realise and was around when
Atlantis was.” I also mentioned a black teacher whom I checked out o YouTube
once and he was railing about images on walls in Egypt and this statue in the
British museum that was not on public display. “He claimed that just because it
was Egyptian,” I said, “and shows a black man carrying a lamb, this must be
where the idea came from for Jesus to be associated with the lamb and was
therefore hidden which is plain bull! Sheep were generally sacred during the
age of Aries. But they may have kept it off display to save idiots making such
ridiculous assumptions! lol. So, we'll have to agree to disagree on that
subject for now until some hard fucking evidence is produced one way or the
other I guess! lol.” Well, you know, I found it so hilarious that I made up
this wee ditty one day when I found myself walking beside a noisy dual
carriageway (sung in my best African voice):

Life is my
best friend

And my
worst enemy

Jesus was
a black man

Love all
your enemy

Many black
people also favour the myth that Africa is the cradle of civilisation, that we
all originate there and are, therefore, all African! Darwin’s linear and
thwarted theory of evolution suits the agenda of mainstream science which does
not account for earlier civilisations such as Atlantis and humanity’s
subsequent devolution. In an
interview with Craig Ventner on Coast to
Coast AM (www.coasttocoastam.com) in 2007, Michael Tellinger tells
us that, “We did not evolve to this
point of time. We, somehow, were manipulated to this point in time.” Apart from
other evidence, he explains that, “The genes that keep Asian people Asian and
Africans African are so strong that it is impossible for them to have evolved
over 230,000 years to get like that. So they must have been created separately,
probably at different times. There has not been enough time on Earth for us to
evolve so dramatically into these three or four distinctly different race
groups. We’re not the human race because we are not one race group. We are
three or four, possibly more, distinctly different race groups. Scientists once
believed that all humans were 99% genetically the same, identical. But they
found out, as a result of the Human Genome Project studies that, between different
race groups, there is up to 2 or 3% difference in their genetic structure [a
“huge difference”]. In terms of these race groups’ responses to external
factors – their environment (e.g. disease), there is up to 15% difference,
which broadens the genetic difference even more. They seem to have come from
completely different places in the universe – or their genes did. It is as though ET settlers bred a group for a specific
purpose and then another group of ETs did the same elsewhere on Earth.

At the end of this week, I was talking to one of
the so-called ‘tutors,’ a conscientious Pakistani gentleman who counted James
Khan among his heroes and appeared equally ‘British’ in his own way; that is,
‘integrated’ in the country in which he was born and/or raised (I also got the
impression he was an atheist). During our chat, I said that black and Asian men
don’t like the fact that I am quite withdrawn emotionally, highly independent
and a sensitive rebel on the quiet (well, OK, not always quietly. Haha). He
immediately told me the reason is that, owing to the way they are brought up,
they have to be in control. So, if they had issues with me it was because they
couldn’t connect with me emotionally in order to control me, which is what the
neighbours’ son is always trying to do and is outraged by my lack of
‘cooperation.’

I then
worked alongside a black guy my own age who, like me, was on a work placement
(providing slave labour to a corporate chain at the behest of the Government to
keep their long-term unemployment figures down). He told me he doesn’t like
Camden because it is full of weirdos (‘or used to be more’). He is from East
London and has lived there all his life. I said I hate East London because it’s
a ghetto, home to just a few ethnic minorities and whoever white English people
got left behind whereas Camden is more cosmopolitan and home to people from all
racial backgrounds and all walks of life. It is therefore more universal in my
view and I do not feel so much negative energy when I visit an area like that.

He also
told me there are a lot of black devils (nasty people) but there are also a lot
of good black people. I said that the Illuminati know how to bring out the
stress and bad behaviour in people and a lot of it is due to that. I think he
agreed; I’m not sure. He did say, at some point, that he was very surprised to
hear a ‘Caucasian’ talking about the Illuminati. I was very surprised by this
statement! I explained that we are all ‘goyim’ (cattle) to them. Although they
generally seem to abuse blacks (and real Jews), and have imperial ambitions in
the Middle East which has brought so much suffering to millions of Muslims as
well, they use some white people just as they use some black people; that is,
the ones who can be bought and controlled easily. Ultimately, however, they
hate everyone and consider white people to be their enemies as well. They are
aggressors whose racism dates back thousands and thousands of years. The
‘goyim’ they use are fearful people who value money above all else and can
therefore be controlled. They have a slave mentality and give their power away
too easily and/or they are happy to rely on someone else’s power and direction,
will and purpose.

Also, on
that ‘course’ (sentence), I recall, there was one day when I was having a
conversation with a Ghanian man who was one of the black guys I got on really
well with. He was sitting on my left while, on my right, a young African lady
was watching vocal performances on YouTube and listening to the singing in some
headphones. She kept bursting out in song every 5 or 10 minutes or something. I
remember the sound of her voice was at such a pitch that it passed through me
as though it were irritatingly shrill which it wasn’t. I was getting angry and
the two of us noted that she was trying to get attention. She did it even more
after my friend left, glancing sideways slightly once at my evident agitation.
In the end, I thought I was going to explode so I just got up and went home.
Prior to that, there was an African guy who listened to music on his mobile
phone constantly. Again, I was sitting next to him one day and my blood was
boiling. I couldn’t really say anything to him because no one else had
complained and I was new there. Thankfully, the ‘tutor’ (warden) told him not
to do it anymore.

"Instead
of being presented with stereotypes by age, sex, colour, class, or religion,
children must have the opportunity to learn that within each range, some people
are loathsome and some are delightful." – Margaret Mead.

22 September 2008.

It’s been four days since the incident in the park.
This afternoon, I braved the miserable weather to meditate under a tree in a
different park, a beautiful, isolated spot by a pond. The reason for this event
is that the Equinox today is said to be an important trigger for an abundance
of energy being made available in October so I figured I would attune myself to
it. Close to home, on the way back, a tall, psychotic black guy made a loud,
freakish screech as he passed me in the street. I laughed slightly aggressively
only to then hear him do it again behind me. I turned around and there was
another black guy (a Rastafarian I presume since he had dreadlocks) walking
behind me. So, I asked him if the guy had made the same noise to him and he
confirmed what I knew already. I told him I thought he’d made such an
intimidating noise because I was white! I felt that it was possible since
that’s the vibe I get sometimes even though I realise that some are just
aggressive to everyone. He smiled and said that he was just a nutter and you
just have to let it go. He was on his way home from work. We chatted a bit and
he was such a cool guy, very genuine, friendly and sincere. Writing this
section of the book, I feel very concerned about not offending the wrong
people. It appears to be drawing my attention to the best and worst people in
the area! Certainly, today, I encountered both at the same time! Whoever you
are, please don’t be offended by anything in this book because I could be an
African, a Hindu, a Mexican, a Bengali, a Czech, a small, yellow, British-born
Babelfish broadcasting this week’s show from Melvyn Bragg’s earhole or a koala
bear, sorry, I mean Australian (just kidding, so I don’t want letters from
ill-humoured Ozzies writing to complain, okay?).

“’The Babel fish,’ said The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
quietly, ‘is small, yellow and leech-like, and probably the oddest thing in the
Universe. It feeds on brainwave energy received not from its own carrier but
from those around it. It absorbs all unconscious mental frequencies from this
brainwave energy to nourish itself with. It then excretes into the mind of its
carrier a telepathic matrix formed by combining the conscious thought
frequencies with nerve signals picked up from the speech centres of the brain
which has supplied them. The practical upshot of all this is that if you stick
a Babel fish in your ear you can instantly understand anything said to you in
any form of language. The speech patterns you actually hear decode the
brainwave matrix which has been fed into your mind by your Babel fish.

‘Now it is such a bizarrely improbable coincidence
that anything so mindboggingly useful could have evolved purely by chance that
some thinkers have chosen to see it as a final and clinching proof of the non-existence
of God.

‘Oh, that was
easy,’ says Man, and for an encore goes on to prove that black is white and
gets himself killed on the next zebra crossing.

‘Most leading
theologians claim that this argument is a load of dingo’s kidneys, but that
didn’t stop Oolon Colluphid making a small fortune when he used it as the
central theme of his best-selling book Well That About Wraps It Up For God.

‘Meanwhile, the
poor Babel fish, by effectively removing all barriers to communication between
different races and cultures, has caused more and bloodier wars than anything
else in the history of creation.’”

-
Douglas Adams (The Hitch Hikers Guide to
the Galaxy. A Trilogy in Four Parts,
William Heinemann Ltd, London, U.K., 1979, p.52-53).

28 September 2008.

On the way to the park, I was thinking about my
comments regarding selfish actions being commonplace. Nothing happened and I
was wondering if I was being too critical. On the way back, however, a young
black guy holding a white stick walked into the road near the station. He
shouted and threw something with great force towards the people standing by the
bus stop. It hit a metal sign standing on the pavement and narrowly missed a
little old English lady walking slowly past it (by two or three feet). It
looked like he was aiming for her and I was sickened to my stomach. Had the
objet hit her, it would have brought her to the ground for sure. I crossed the
street and asked someone if he knew who the guy had been aiming at. He told me
he had thrown it in the direction of the Internet café next to the bus stop, at
someone who had gone back inside. There was no chance of him hitting his
intended victim but every chance that someone at the bus stop could have been
hit by it. And this little old lady was walking in the other direction with her
back turned to the missile. She must have heard the loud ‘bang’ from its impact
with the metal sign but continued her journey without showing any curiosity or
anxiety, reminding me slightly of Mr. Magoo!

[Shortly after this, as I was about to walk passed
a very old Indian lady guided by a younger woman, a tall young Asian boy, aged
about 14 or 15, ran straight into her and knocked her over! I panicked because
had her head hit the pavement I felt sure she would have died. Fortunately, the
woman escorting her saved her from falling right to the ground. He showed no
remorse whatsoever. I was curious to know if he felt anything at all. Since he
was walking in my direction, I chatted to him in a light-hearted way to show
that I was not judging him. He still didn’t say a word or show any emotion so I
emphasised the gravity of the situation and how he would have felt if she had
died hoping, at least, that he might give the matter some thought later].

I’m often amazed to see old English people
struggling to get around in town on their own. They have lived here their whole
lives and now, in their fragile states of health, they find themselves in the
most vulnerable position imaginable. They must surely cocoon themselves from
the surrounding madness. How could one possibly afford to pay attention to it?
It could only heighten the very real sense of danger and fear. It is such a
staggering contrast. The younger English people have moved away and young black
people have been moving into the area for a few years now. And those whose seem
to live their lives by selfish aggression are a very menacing presence here,
often shouting, often talking out loud in an aggressive manner, often looking
aggressively at people and sometimes spouting spiteful remarks directly.
Fortunately, there are only a few of these people here but even one is too many
and can cause enough damage through fear alone. And they call it ‘attitude’ as
though that justifies such behaviour. I’m aware, however, that many part of the
country are now tyrannised by youths. Quite, relaxed towns, including those
mostly inhabited by older generations, have become volatile and unsafe,
particularly at night, of course, when they simply run riot; hence evening
curfews having been imposed on certain town centres in recent years.

Vogon Captain: Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts

Actually, I believe that my aversion to loud people
is that they represent the opposite extreme. I keep everything in. in fact, I
observe that noisy, aggressive people don’t like me much for the same reason.
It’s a reminder that they too are unbalanced and need to change to become
happier.

“Everything that irritates us about
others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.” - Carl Jung.

Going back to fire/water types, I feel that there
are more in the black community; hence the reason for such clashes (although I
have experienced similar discord with an air/water type too). Only the
self-centred ones who overtly or aggressively use the emotional web that
connects us all for their own ends bother me. I knew one black guy from about
2003 to 2005 who had a problem with me and later told me so. He gave me a hint
and I knew he meant the way I related to him with quiet, measured attachment
just as I did everyone else although I don’t think he realised that. He took it
personally because he relied on an emotional connection with people so he could
be his relaxed, open self. He couldn’t trust anyone else and I evidently made
him feel insecure. Since I intuitively knew what he meant, I refused to respond
as he both expected and silently demanded. The very insistence of it caused me
to rebel and become even more detached when I would otherwise have responded in
my own way and in my own time. Really, though, I simply refused to play what I
felt was a childish game – or I just never learned to play it or appreciate its
value. It felt to me as though he couldn’t relate to people unless they made
him feel comfortable. It is possible that, having been brought up in mixed-race
London, this was how people ignored any differences and got along, albeit at
the expense of their individual uniqueness. He needed to see people’s teddy
bear, their soft, docile, cuddly side. He was a lady’s man too. His Inner Child
was really in the foreground (perhaps having been given free rein in early
life) whereas mine was hiding way beneath the surface. [Retrospective note:
Perhaps the worst case of this type is the need of the Lancastrian negative ego
to bring everything down to the lower common denominator so nobody is made to
feel that they are ‘less’ of anything or in anyway, least of all themselves!
The apparent unity is not genuine but wreaks of unconscious fear of
independence and anything that might have value to which they do not have
immediate access and results only in mediocrity].

“We may
have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now.” - Martin
Luther King.

In this guy’s case, however, his motives were not
selfish or aggressive motives. He was comfortable with his emotions and
comfortable in his own skin too. I believe he now practices Reiki healing. I
actually thought he was cool and had great respect for him, particularly for
his relaxed charm. He did seem to need others’ approval to some degree and
focused on common ground on which people agreed. He had adapted to life in South London and this survival instinct had served him
well. It was often superficial but it was not that he was a shallow person. His
objective was clearly emotional bonding as a foundation for social interaction.
He was, I would suggest, oriented more in his belly whereas, although being
very emotional myself, I had become more centred in my head. Just different priorities,
subjective versus objective, although I was older and had pursued a direction
in life that had made me rather solitary and independent. I had an introverted
depth but had become imbalanced, primarily because I had taken refuge in my
philosophical studies and creative enterprises and did not have like-minded
people around me. I would also estimate that our hearts were perhaps open to
about the same degree. He always gave money to beggars just as I used to in my
20s when I was his age. There were, however, by that time so many beggars,
charities and other people asking for money that I just donated occasionally.
Besides, I was sending annual cheques to the Tibet Foundation and that was as
much as I could afford anyway. I would sometimes observe this acquaintance with
fascination since he appeared to epitomise something I very much needed to
learn. You could even say that I consider him to be a role model where
emotional expression is concerned, apart from the bit about projecting an
obligation to express emotions. But, hey, perhaps he was justified in that
expectation. I was had neglected my own emotional needs and was heading for a
fall without realising it.

“You can handle people more successfully by
enlisting their feelings than by convincing their reason.” – Paul P. Parker.

I kind of feel like an alien when it comes to the
social game of manipulation. I feel its presence and allow it to be played out
to a degree but I don’t join in and neither am I fooled by it as people often
like to believe I am. I perceive it as immature and yet, at the same time, I
appreciate that it accompanies the emotional flow between people when they
bond. I myself, on the other hand, am often withdrawn and have trouble relating
on that superficial level which provides a fluid connection. If I am honest, it
is possible that I feel some fear of being contaminated by many people’s
apparent interest in banality and need for drama. Typical of my own species,
the process ends before it begins for me.

“The most wasted day of all is that on which we have not laughed.” -
Sebastien-Roch Nicholas Chamfort (French author, 1741-1794).

Foot note

1. Not sure I like
the idea of agreeing with our Justice Minister’s statements about the English ‘propensity for violence’ if it means
being further oppressed by legislation that criminalises politically incorrect
jokes. I once read that Jack Straw himself was prone to physical violence in
his younger days. Regardless of whether there’s any truth in that, where does
he think this national potential for aggression comes from? Straw seems to
suggest that the Empire simply took advantage of an innate aggression. There
might be an element of truth in that. To my mind, it is derived from being
pushed around by corrupt, elitist authorities whether their motives are
imperial or not. Take the heat off and bring back Benny Hill would be my advice
(now wouldn’t that make a splendid ‘Second coming?’). It’s pretty obvious to me
that the antidote to the stressful lives many British people endure is humour –
true humour of the Benny Hill kind. I sometimes wonder if it is the only
language many of us can take seriously. Perhaps the best thing we can do for
Britain apart from anchoring the Light is to visualise some of our dour and
long-faced politicians wearing clown costumes replete with broad smiles
courtesy of a good dose of face paint!

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Born on 25 November 1965 and currently living in Yorkshire, England. I write songs and books and have a website that serves as a platform for my work as well as being an Ascension resource. The Treasure Chest displays all chapters of The Monstaville Memoirs trilogy as well as further insights from various sources relating to the themes of these books. The Powerlessness of Now reveals the many ways in which we have given our power away to the Establishment through its web of control.

“Someone asked, ‘Why is there suffering?’ [Meher] Baba gave this succinct reply: ‘Suffering is essential for the elimination of the ego, just as it was necessary for you to scrub and scrub in order to wash the stain from my coat.’" - Unkown.

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